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Personal Recollections 




J. 



A PAPER 



-READ BEFORE— 



Tlie Oliio Conimandery of tlie Military Order 



—OF THE- 



Loyal Legion of the United States, 



BY COMPANION 



James R. Carnahan, 

Late Captain 86th Regiment Indiana Volunteer Infantry. 

January 6, 1886. 



CINCINNATI : 

H. C. Sherrick & Co. 
1886. 



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IN EXCHANGE 

JAN 5 - 1915 



Personal Recollections of Ciiickamaiiga. 



Companions : 

Said an eminent artist, as he stood and gazed on the 
picture his mind, genius, and hand had wrought — a picture so 
wonderful in its grandeur, and in the vividness with which 
the subject was portrayed, "I have painted for eternity." 
His picture was but the portrayal of his thoughts, his vision, 
as the subject had impressed him, and by his act he gave it 
life, and it spoke, and will ever speak to mankind. So have 
each of us painted in and upon our minds, pictures of the 
exciting scenes through which each passed, and of which he 
was a part, that transpired in our Country from April, 1861, 
to the close of the war in 1865. Wonderful, grand, heroic 
pictures they were that were painted day by day through 
those years. On the brain, the mind, the memory of each of 
us were they painted, not with the graceful curves, the evenly 
drawn lines, and pleasing blending of colors given by the pro- 
fessional artist in the quiet of his studio, but in the alarm that 
came in the sudden midnight attack of armed hosts, the 
bursting of the tempest of battle in the early dawn, or it was 
made in vivid coloring as the sun went down and closed a 
day of carnage and death. The lines are heavy and deep- 
shaded ; the figures stand out as living, moving men and 
horses ; the guns, and cannon, and trappings seem to be real, 
not painted things. Pictures these are that all time cannot 
eflface, nor is there one of us to-day that would, if he could, 
blot them out of existence. 

The busy marts of trade may shut them out for a while, 
but ever and anon, in the crowded thoroughfare and in the 



rush and throng of men, a face meets us that brings to the 
mind, like a sudden flash of light in the darkness, scenes 
where that face met your gaze in the storm of battle, the eye 
all ablaze in the excitement of the hour. A voice comes to 
your ears out of the noise and turmoil of the crowded city. 
That voice arrests your steps and causes the heart to leap and 
throb as it has not done for years. There is a veil over the 
picture, or it has grown dim from the dust and heat and rush 
of the great metropolis. But there is something in the tones 
of that voice that sets you to brushing away the dust from the 
picture ; for you know there is a picture somewhere obscured, 
and at last it stands out with wondrous vividness on the can- 
vas of your memory, and you see, back through more than a 
score of years that have passed since that picture was painted, 
him whose voice you have just heard as he cheered on his 
men to victory, or rallied his brave comrades for another 
daring effort to stem the tide of battle that was going against 
us. And with that voice and face in mind, you see, not the 
comrades, the companions that gather about us to-night, with 
beard and hair grizzled and gray, with steps that are halting 
and lame, but the boys and associates of our boyhood days, 
with elastic step, and eyes bright with the vigor of young 
manhood. If these pictures do not come to you with the sun 
at meridian, they come to you at '* low twelve," as in your 
dreams you see the columns move out with flying flags and 
waving banners. You see the dusty roads over which you 
marched, the streams at which you slacked your thirst ; 
mountain and plain, river and forest, come and go. The 
scene changes, and you see the lines set in battle array, and 
follow in your dream from the first shot of the skirmishers on 
through the various figures of that wondrously faithful battle 
picture, on and on, until in a shout of victory, or a command 
for a charge in the heat of the contest, you suddenly waken 
and realize that you were viewing the pictures you helped to 
paint on the great canvas of our Nation's history. 

It is said that no two persons see the same rainbow, and 
it is especially true that each officer or soldier sees a different 



— 5 — 

picture of the same battle. Each had his special duty to per- 
form, each was to know nothing except as conveyed to him 
in brief but forcible orders. Theirs only to meet duty and per- 
form it intelligently and bravely ; theirs to see nothing except 
such matters as might come within their observation in the 
narrow compass of their duties with company, regiment, or 
command. Each, according to his nature, painted or had 
painted on his mind each varying, shifting scene through 
those battles — scenes of battles lost and battles won. 

To-night I propose to give, not a detail of the orders that 
were issued, nor to give minutely the various movements 
made, but only to give you the impressions, pictures, if you 
will, that were made on my mind, and as thoroughly engraven 
on the tablets of my memory as if written thereon with an 
engraver's pen, of that battle that took the Army of the Cum- 
berland into Chattanooga, and though by most considered a 
defeat and disaster, was in fact the battle that made it possible 
for us to occupy Chattanooga and hold it. 

Leaving Murfreesboro in June, 1863, we had marched to 
McMinville, Tenn., and had there spent the summer as one 
of the out-posts of Gen. W. S. Rosecrans' army, while the 
remainder of his army advanced toward Chattanooga. Leav- 
ing McMinville when the time had fully come for the final 
advance, we marched to join the remainder of the army at 
Bridgeport. When we reached Bridgeport, however, we 
found the army had crossed the Tennessee River and was 
pushing on toward Chattanooga, and followed on. Our first 
view of Chattanooga was had as our division, Van Cleve's, 
of Crittenden's Corps — the 21st — passed around the point of 
Lookout Mountain, where it touches the Tennessee River 
down below the town opposite Moccasin Point. There seemed 
nothing specially inviting to us in the little old town off to our 
left ; in fact, the invitation came to us to go in another direc- 
tion. Obeying the order we there received, we hastened 
away up the valley toward Rossville, and on toward Ring- 
gold, in pursuit of Bragg, who was at the time reported to be 
retreating before Rosecrans' army. On we pushed, joining 



— 6~ 

the remainder of our corps and the cavalry at Ringgold. It 
was a delightful march ; the roads were smooth, the weather 
was perfect, the enemy kept out of our way, and, in fact, we 
felt as though now there would be no more serious fighting. 
Had we not driven the Confederate army out of Kentucky, 
had whipped it at Stone River, and driven it all the way down 
from Murfreesboro, and out of their stronghold — Chatta- 
nooga — and were yet in pursuit? Certainly the war would 
soon be over. So the men thought and talked. When we 
reached Ringgold, we found, for some reason not clearly 
defined in words, that we would not advance any further in 
that particular direction. In fact, it was deemed advisable 
that our corps should advance ( ?) over the same route by 
which we had come, back up into Lookout Mountain valley. 
Two weeks in that pleasant early autumn of 1863 we spent 
somewhat after the manner described in the old song, we 

" Marched up the hill, and then marched down again." 

We made a reconnoissance now here, now there, each time be- 
coming more and more convinced that Gen. Bragg was in no 
very great hurry to get away, and speedily end the war ; in 
fact, we became fully persuaded that he preferred to remain in 
our immediate front ; nay, more, we were fast making the dis- 
covery that the enemy was for some reason becoming more 
and more aggressive. The reconnoissance that was made by 
the Third Brigade of Van Cleve's Division on Sunday, Sep- 
tember 13th, beyond Lee & Gordon's mills, developed the fact 
that the enemy's lines were stronger than ever before, and 
that all our efforts to dislodge him were in vain. That the 
Confederates were receiving reinforcements could not be 
longer doubted, and that a battle was imminent was now 
apparent to all ; just where or when, whether our army would 
make the attack or be attacked, were the unsolved questions 
of the problem. Each day, as it came and passed, seemed 
to bring to all a more certain conviction that the conflict, when 
or wheresoever it should come, would be a most terrible one. 
In this uncertainty, and with certain feverish restlessness that 



-7 — 

is always engendered in anticipation of a battle, the 21st 
Corps lay about Crawfish Springs and Lee & Gordon's 
mills. Extra ammunition had been issued to the troops as a 
precaution against any emergency that might arise. Each 
company officer had received orders to keep his men in 
camp ; the horses of the artillery stood harnessed ; everything 
seemed to be in readiness, come what might. Such was the 
condition of affairs with our portion of the army on Friday, 
the 1 8th of September, 1863. The forenoon of that day had 
been spent in general talk, both among officers and among 
men, on the now all-absorbing question as to the probabilities 
of a battle. Our brigade, the Third, commanded by Col. 
Geo. F. Dick, of the 86th Indiana, lay [near Crawfish Springs. 
We had just finished our noon-day meal and pipes were 
lighted, and we were preparing to spend the hours of the 
afternoon as best we might, when we caught the sound of a 
distant artillery shot off toward Ringgold. This proved to be 
the first shot of what was so soon to be the battle of Chick- 
amauga. The shots grew in number, and more and more dis- 
tinct. It required but little time for each officer and soldier 
to take in the situation and realize the condition of affairs. 
We knew from the sounds that were borne to us that the army 
of Gen. Bragg had ceased to retreat and to act on the defen- 
sive, and was now advancing upon our army. This action 
was proof that the enemy had been largely reinforced, and 
now felt itself not only able to meet us in battle, but con- 
fident in its ability to defeat and put us to rout, and to 
recover all they had lost. 

Not much time was given for thought or talk before our 
brigade was ordered to " fall in," and we were moved out 
down to the left, and past Lee & Gordon's mills, to the relief 
of our hard-pressed cavalry, now falling back onto our main 
army. How urgent the need of assistance to our cavalry 
we soon learned as we saw them coming in wounded and 
broken, riderless horses, ambulances filled with wounded and 
dying — all coming together told how fierce the onslaught that 
had been made on them, and they who were yet un wounded 



— 8 — 

were contesting, with all the bravery and stubbornness that 
men could, every part of the distance that lay between us and 
the enemy. Our lines were formed, and we moved forward, 
checking the enemy's advance for the day. Our skirmish 
line and pickets were strengthened, and our brigade remained 
on duty through the night, and listened to the ominous sounds 
that came to us through the darkness, the distant rumbling of 
artillery wheels, the sound now and then of axes, all telling 
us of the preparations that were being made, and the perfect- 
ing of plans for the terrible contest of the morrow. 

In the earlv morning of the 19th we were relieved from 
duty, and were sent back toward Lee & Gordon's mills, into 
an open field, there to prepare our breakfasts and get such 
sleep and rest as we could, until such time as our services 
would be demanded. The sun had scarcely appeared when 
a shot was heard over on the right of our line ; in a short 
time another, as if one army or the other were feeling its way. 
Soon another shot, which brought an answering shot ; then 
came the opening artillery duel that seemed to shake the very 
earth. From this, shots came from all along our lines, show- 
ing that the enemy had got well into position along our entire 
front during the night. Now the firing increases on our right, 
and between the artiller}^ shots we catch the sound of mus- 
ketry ; stronger and stronger the contest grows, and nearer, 
too, for now comes one continuous roar of artillery from the 
right, and volley after volley of musketry tells that the two 
armies have come together in the first charges of the battle. 
The contest gathers in strength, starting down from the right, 
on it comes to the lines in our front, and on past us toward 
the left, until at length it becomes one commingled roar of 
artillery and rattle of musketry from right to left. We see 
none of the lines engaged, but it must be that the Union army 
is holding its position against the furious charges that are 
being made upon it. A lull for a few moments comes in the 
contest, and you hear onl}'^ scattering shots along the line ; 
but looking off to our front, through an opening in the trees, 
could be seen, crossing the ridge, the marching columns of 



the enemy as they moved toward our left, preparatory to the 
terrible work of that Saturday afternoon. Again the sound 
of the contest begins to gather and grow in strength. It 
comes on like the blasts of the tornado, sounding louder and 
louder, growing stronger and stronger until it comes in a 
great rush and roar of sound, before which those who bear 
and are not of it stand in awe and look each the other in the 
face, but dare not speak. Over on the right it again breaks 
forth, and with renewed strength rolls on down the lines, 
growing fiercer and fiercer, and louder and louder, as addi- 
tional forces are brought into the contest, until it reaches the 
extreme left, when backward it would sweep again to the 
right, only again to go rolling, and jarring, and crashing in its 
fury as backward and forward it swept. It was as when the 
ocean is lashed to fury by the tempest, when great rolling 
waves come chasing one the other in their mighty rage, until 
they strike with a roar upon the mighty cliffs of stone, only to 
be broken and driven back upon other incoming waves as 
strong, or stronger, than they had been, so came to our ears 
the sound of that mighty tempest of war — volley after volley 
of musketry rolling in waves of dreadful sound, one upon the 
other, to which was added the deep sounding crash of the 
artillery, like mighty thunder peals through the roar of the 
tempest, making the ground under your feet tremble as it 
came and went, each wave more terrible than the former. 

It was evident to those of us who listened that the enemy 
was making desperate efforts to overwhelm and break our 
lines. 

Through that forenoon — and oh, how long it seemed — we 
waited outside the contest, and heard that mighty, that terrible 
tornado of war as it raged in our front and all about us, 
and saw the constantly moving columns of the enem3^'s in- 
fantry, with flying flags, and saw battery after battery as they 
moved before us like a great panorama unfolding in the open- 
ing to which I have referred. We had been sent back, as I 
have said, to rest after a night on duty, but rest there was 
none. The guns were stacked in line, and the battery 



lO — 



attached to our brigade stood just in the rear of us, with 
horses hitched to guns and caissons, ready to move any 
instant. Now and then a stray shot or shell would fly over 
us, and strike in the ground or burst in the air, to our rear. 

Our men grow restless, that restlessness that comes to 
men in that most trying of all times in the life of a soldier, 
when be hears the battle raging with all the might of the 
furies about him, when he can now and then catch the sound 
of the distant shouts that tell that the charge is being made, 
and can hear above the shouts the rattling, tearing, shrieking 
sound of the volleys of musketry, and the shot and shell and 
canister of the artillery that tells too well that the charge is 
met, and that great gaps are being made in the lines ; that 
men and comrades are being maimed, and wounded, and 
killed. In such moments as these, when you see and hear, 
but are not a part of the battle, men grow pale and lose their 
firmness, their nerve ; then it is they realize that war is ter- 
rible. They are hungry, but they cannot eat ; they are tired 
but they cannot sit down ; they lay prone upon the ground, 
but that is worse than standing, and they rise again ; you 
speak to them, and they answer you as one who is half asleep ; 
they laugh, but it is a laugh that has no joy in it. The in- 
fantrymen stay close to their muskets ; the artillerymen, 
drivers, and gunners stand close to their posts of duty in a 
terrible, fearful state of nervous unrest. These men whom 
you thus see on that fearful September afternoon are not lack- 
ing in all true soldierly qualities ; their bravery had been 
tested on other fields — at Donelson, at Shiloh, at Perryville, 
and at Stone River they met the enemy in the hottest of the 
battle with all the bravery and firmness of the Roman, and 
now when the time shall come for them to be ordered to the 
aid of their comrades, they will not be found wanting. Thus 
hour after hour has passed for us in this fearful state of anx- 
iety and suspense. No tidings from the front ; we only know 
that the battle is fearful, is terrible. 

Noonday has passed, when suddenly from out the woods 
to our front and left onto the open field, dashes an officer, his 



— II — 

horse urged to its greatest speed toward our command. The 
men see him coming, and in an instant they are aroused to 
the greatest interest. "There comes orders" are the words 
that pass from Hp to lip along that line. Without commands 
the lines are formed behind the gun stacks ; the cannoneers 
stand by their guns ; the drivers stand with hand on rein and 
foot in stirrup, ready to mount. How quick, how great the 
change at the prospect of freedom from the suspense of the 
day. The eye lights up, the arm again grows strong, and the 
nerves are again growing steady ; every head is bent forward 
to catch, if possible, the first news from the front, and to hear 
the orders that are to be given. All now are roused : there is 
to be no more suspense ; it is to be action from now and on 
until the battle shall close. Nearer and nearer comes the 
rider ; now you catch his features, and can see the fearful 
earnestness that is written in every line of the face. He bends 
forward as he rides, in such haste he is. The horse he rides 
seems to have caught the spirit of the rider, and horse and 
rider tell to the experienced soldier that there is to be work 
for us ; that the urgency is great, and that the peril is immi- 
nent. 

How much there is of life, of the soldier's life, that can- 
not be painted on canvas or described in words ; it is the in- 
expressible part — the face, the eye, the swaying of the body, 
the gesture of the hand, the movement of the head, as the 
officer, the soldier, feels that his comrades are in deepest peril, 
and that unless help comes, and comes quickly, all hope is 
gone. He speaks not a word, but his appearance speaks in 
thunder tones. Companions, you, and each of you, have 
seen just such times and such faces. Such was the face, and 
such the action of that staff" officer that afternoon of Septem- 
ber 19, 1863; and every soldier, as he saw him, read that 
face and form as though it were an open book — 3^es, and read 
it in all its awful, dreadful meaning — and, reading, reahzed 
their full duty. He reaches our line, and is met by our 
brigade commander, Col. Geo. F. Dick, as anxious to receive 
the orders as he is to give them. The command comes in 



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quick, sharp words : " The General presents his compliments, 
and directs that you move your brigade at once to the sup- 
port of Gen. Beard. Take the road, moving by the flank in 
' double quick ' to the left and into the woods, and go into line 
on the left of Gen. Beatty's brigade. I am to direct you. 
Our men are hard pressed." The last ^-entence was all that 
was said in words as to the condition of our troops, but it told 
that we had read aright before he had spoken. 

Scarce had the order been delivered when the command 
to "take arms" is h- ard along the line, and to drivers and 
cannoneers to mount. It scarcely took the time required to 
tell it for our brigade to get in motion, moving oft' the field, 
the artillery taking the wagon road, the infantry alongside. 
It was a grand scene as we moved quickly into place, closing 
up the column and waitmg but a moment for the command. 
The guns are at a right shoulder, and all have grown eager 
for the order, " Forward." The bugle sounds the first note 
of the command. Now look along that column ; the men are 
leaning forward for the start ; you see the drivers on the 
artillery teams tighten the rein in the left hand, and, with the 
whip in the uplitted right arm, rise in their stn'ups ; and as 
the last note of the bugle is sounded, the crack of the whips 
of thirty-six drivers over the backs of as many horses, and 
the stroke of the spurs, sends that battel y of six guns and its 
caissons rattling and bounding over that road, while the in- 
fantry alongside are straining every nerve as they hasten to 
the relief of the comrades so hard pressed. The spirits of 
the men grow higher and higher with each moment of the 
advance. The rattling of the artillery and the hoof beats of 
the horses add to the excitement of the onward rush, infantry 
and artillery thus side by side vieing each with the other 
which shall best do his part. Now, as we come nearer, the 
storm of the battle seems to grow greater and greater. On 
and yet on we press, until reaching the designated point, the 
artillery is turned oft' to the left on to a ridge, a^d go into 
position along its crest, while the lines of the infantry are be- 
ing formed to the right of the road over which we have just 



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been huirying. Our lines are scarcely formed, and the com- 
mand to move forward given, when the lines which are in 
advance of us are broken by a terrific charge of the enemy, 
and are driven back in confusion onto our line — friend and 
foe so intermingled that we cannot fire a shot without inflict- 
ing as much injury on our men as upon the enemy. 

Our artillery, on the crest of the ridge back of us, have 
unlimbered and gone into action, and their shell are now fly- 
ing over our heads into the woods, where the enemy's lines 
had been. Confusion seems to have taken possession of our 
lines, and, to add to it, the lines to our right have been broken 
and the enemy are sweeping past our flank. The order is 
given to fall back on line with the artillery. Out of the wood, 
under the fire of our cannon, the men hasten. Now on the 
crest of that ridge, without works of any kind to shelter them, 
our troops are again hastily formed, and none too soon. 
Down the gentle slope of that ridge, and away to our right 
and left and front stretches an open field, without tree or 
shrub to break the force of the balls. In our front, and at the 
edge of the field, two hundred yards away, runs the road 
parallel with our lines ; beyond the road the heavy timber 
where the Confederate lines are formed, and well protected in 
their preparations for their charge. Scarce had our lines 
been formed when the sharp crack of the rifles along our 
front, and the whistling of the balls over our heads, give us 
warning that the advance of the enemy has begun, and in an 
instant the shots of the skirmishers are drowned by the shout 
that goes up from the charging column as it starts down in 
the woods. Our men are ready. The 7th Indiana Battery — 
six guns — is on the right of my regiment; Battery M, 4th 
U. S. Artillery, is on our left. The gunners and every man 
of those two batteries are at their posts of duty, the tightly 
drawn lines in their faces showing their purpose tliere to 
stand for duty or die. Officers pass the familiar command of 
caution along the line — " Steady, men, steady." The shout 
of the charging foe comes rapidly on ; now they burst out of 
the woods and onto the road. As if touched by an electric 



— 14 — 

cord, so quick and so in unison was it, the rifles leap to the 
shoulder along the ridge where waves the stars and stripes. 
Now the enemy are in plain view along the road covering our 
entire front ; you can see them, as with cap visors drawn well 
down over their eyes, the gun at the charge, with short, shrill 
shout they come, and we see the colors of Longstreet's corps, 
flushed with victory, confronting us. Our men recognize the 
gallantry of their foe, and their pride is touched as well. All 
this is but the work of an instant, when, just as that long line 
of grny has crossed the road, quick and sharp rings out along 
our line the command "Ready," " Fire ! " It seems to come to 
infantry and artillery at the same instant, and out from the 
rifles of the men and the mouths of those cannons leap the 
death-dealing bullet and canister; again and again, with 
almost lightning rapidity, they pour in their deadly, merciless 
fire, until along that entire ridge it has become almost one 
continuous volley. Now that Corps that had known little of 
defeat begins to waver; their men had fallen thick and fast 
about them. Again and yet again the volleys are poured 
into them, and the artillery on our right and left have not 
ceased their deadly work. No troops can long withstand 
such fire ; their lines waver, another volley and they are 
broken and now fall back in confusion. The charge was not 
long in point of time, but was terrible in its results to the foe. 
Along the entire line to our right and left we can hear 
the battle raging with increased fury. We are now on the 
defensive ; and all can judge that the lull in our front is only 
the stillness that forbodes the more terrible slorm that is to 
come. A few logs and rails are hastily gathered together to 
form a slight breastwork. Soon the scattering shots that be- 
gan to fall about us gave us warning that our foe was again 
moving on us. Again we are ready, now laj-ing behind our 
hastily-prepared works. Again we hear the shout as on they 
come with more determination than before ; but with even 
greater courage do our men determine to hold their lines. 
The artiller}' is double shotted with canister. Again the 
command, " Fire !" and hotter, fiercer than before the battle 



— IS — 

rages along our front. Shout is answered with shout, shot by 
shots tenfold, until again our assailants break before our fire 
and are again forced back. But why repeat further the story 
of that Saturday afternoon. Again and again were those 
charges repeated along our line, only to be hurled back — 
broken and shattered. It did seem as though our men were 
more than human. The artillerymen worked as never before. 
Their guns — double shotted — had scarce delivered their 
charges, and before the gun could complete its recoil, was 
caught by strong arms, made doubly strong in that fever heat 
of battle ; was again in position, again double shotted, and 
again fired into the face of the foe. The arms bared, the 
veins standing out in great strong lines, the hat or cap gone 
from the head, the eye starting almost from the socket, the 
teeth set, the face beaded with perspiration, balls falling all 
about them, those men of the 7th Indiana Battery and Bat- 
tery M seemed to be supernaturally endowed with strength. 
Their comrades of the infantry vied with them in acts of 
heroism, and daring, and endurance. They shouted defiance 
at the foe with every shot ; with face and hands begrimed in 
the smoke and dust and heat of the battle; with ccmrades 
falling about them, the survivors thought only of vengeance. 
All the horses on two of the guns of the 7th Indiana Battery 
are shot down ; another charge is beginning ; those two guns 
might be lost ; they must be gotten back. Quick as thought 
a company of infantry spring to the guns, one hand holding 
the rifle, the other on the cannon, and with the shot falling 
thick and fast in and about them, drag the guns over the brow 
of the ridge and down into the woods, just in the rear of our 
lines, and hasten back again to take their places in line, 
ready to meet the on-coming charge. An artilleryman is shot 
down ; a man from the infantry takes his place and obeys 
orders as best he can. When the charge begins our men are 
lying down. Now, in the midst of it, so great has become 
the excitement, so intense the anxiety, all fear and prudence 
vanishes, and the men leap to their feet, and fire and load, and 
fire and load, in the wildest frenzy of desperation. They have 



— 16 — 

lost all ideas of danger, or the strength of the assailants. It 
was this absolute desperation of our men that held our lines. 
A soldier or officer is wounded ; unless the wound was mortal 
or caused the fracture of a limb, they had the wound tied or 
bandaged as best they could, some tearing up their blouses 
for bandages, and again took their places in the lines beside 
their more fortunate comrades. Each man feels the terrible 
weight of responsibility that rests on him personally for the 
results that shall be achieved that day. It is this thought, 
this decision, this purpose and grand courage that comes onl}' 
to the American Citizen Soldier, who voluntarily and with un- 
selfish patriotism stands in defense of principle and country, 
that makes such soldiers as those who fought in our ranks 
that day. On through the afternoon until nightfall did that 
furious storm beat against and rage about us. 

Near night, Gen. J. J. Reynolds, who commanded that 
portion of the line immediately on our left, informed us that 
the lines to our right and left had been broken, and directed 
that we should fall back to the range of hills in our rear ; and 
so, reluctantly, our men fell back after an afternoon in which 
they had helped to hold at bay the flower of the "Army of 
Northern Virginia " and of the Confederacy ; and though 
suffering terribly in loss of men, our portion of the line had 
not lost a flag nor a gun. 

A night of pinching cold with but little sleep illy fitted us 
for the duty that was to be ours after the Sabbath morning's 
sun should rise. With the morning and our hastily prepared 
breakfast came the question, everything then being so still, 
" Will there be fighting to-day? This is Sunday." If there 
had been a faint hope that the army would rest on ils arms 
that bright Sabbath morning, it was of short life, for soon the 
order came for an advance ; and when it came there were no 
laggards found. Soldiers never obeyed more promptly, nor 
with more ready spirit than was that order obeyed. We had 
learned during the evening and night from various sources 
that the battle of Saturday had gone hard with some portions of 
our lines where the enemy had massed his troops most heavily, 



— 17 — 

and our men joined in the desire to retrieve all that had been 
lost. We moved out in line of battle with our skirmishers 
advanced, passing over a portion of the field that had been so 
hotly contested the day before. Soon the shots of the skir- 
mishers warn us that work is before us ; nor is it long until the 
skirmishers have pushed to their furtherest limit, and the line 
of battle joins them. The command for the charge is given, 
and, with a shout that might have come from ever-victorious 
troops, we dash upon their lines. Stubborn is the resistance, 
but impetuous and determined is the charge, comrade cheer- 
ing comrade on — on with a fury that cannot be withstood ; the 
air filled with leaden hail ; men falling about us on every 
side ; but on and on they push until at last the enemy's lines 
are broken, and we follow in hot pursuit, driving them back 
until they reach a line of reinforcements. Again the battle 
rages ; now with redoubled lines they charge upon us, and the 
very earth shakes under our feet from the terrible discharge 
that comes from artillery massed in our front. Shells are 
shrieking in the air and bursting over our heads ; great limbs 
are torn from the trees and fall with the broken shells about 
us. Soon our lines are weighed down with the terrible on- 
slaught, and we are driven back over the same ground over 
which we had just come. Again our lines are rallied, and 
reformed, and strengthened ; and again we charge to recover 
the lost ground. Four times that Sunday forenoon did our 
lines sweep down over that ground, and as many times were 
we driven back, until the ground was almost covered with 
friend and foe — the blue and the gray lying side by side, 
wounded, dying, and dead. Coming to us even in the heat 
and excitement of the battle, it was a terrible and sickening 
sight to see that battle field that day. As often as our lines 
were broken and driven back, so often did they rally and 
renew the attack, until again broken and forced back, turn- 
ing and firing into the face of the foe as they went, until some 
soldier or officer would stop, and, with a brave and determined 
purpose, swear that there he would stand or die, as he turned 
his face once more to the enemy ; and from that stand, so 



— 18 — 

desperately and fearlessly made, calling on his comrades to 
" fall in," our lines would, almost as if by magic, be built out 
to right and left. Those coming back would of their own 
volition halt and face about, and those who had passed be- 
yond would, as soon as they found the line was reforming, 
hasten to rejoin it. But words would fail to tell of the many 
acts of heroism displayed on that field that day. How men 
fought singly from behind trees, in groops of from two to 
a dozen, desperately fighting, hoping against hope. The 
very desperation and fury with which these scattered few 
would fight — checking the enemy, detaining him, and giving 
us time to reform our broken lines — surpassed the stories of 
Napoleon's old guard. Flanked by the enemy, our lines 
would change front under the murderous fire of a foe greatly 
superior in numbers, and again confront him in the new direc- 
tion. From hastily constructed breastworks we fought now 
on this side, now on that. No man was there who did not 
realize that we were greatly outnumbered ; yet no one thought 
of ultimate defeat. Chickamauga was a battle where officers 
and men were all and each alike — heroes of the noblest type. 
If never before, on that battle field of Chickamauga, men of 
the North and men of the South, Union and Confederate, 
learned that no imaginary lines separating North from South, 
or marking the boundary of States, make any difference in 
the spirit of courage, bravery, and daring of the American 
soldier, once he believes he is fighting for a principle, be 
that principle right or wrong. If one is more impetuous, the 
other will endure longer ; if one is proud of his section, the 
other loves his whole country more. The two, united as they 
should be and will be, combine the elements and qualities of 
an army on whose banners might be emblazoned the one 
word " Invincible." 

On and on through all the morning and late into the 
afternoon had the battle raged, now advancing, now retreat- 
ing, so evenly did the honors rest, that now both armies 
seemed willing to rest on their aims. Gradually the firing 
began to die away, and soon almost ceased on our portion of 



— 19 — 

the line. Late in the afternoon we commenced a movement 
by the flank, but so confused had we become in our bearings 
that we did not realize that it was to be anything more than a 
mere change of position for a renewal of the conflict, when 
after a short while we found ourselves out of the noise and din 
of the battle field on the road filled with our troops, and 
marching with them down past Rossville toward Chatta- 
nooga. Then it was that we learned that Chickamauga was, 
not a defeat, but what seemed at the time a great disaster to 
the Union Army. And such it really was in point of muni- 
tions of war that were lost, and the great numbers of Union 
soldiers that fell wounded or dead. But a defeat it was not ; 
and had the battle been fought at Chattanooga instead of 
Chickamauga, Chattanooga would have been lost to us, and 
disaster overwhelming and crushing would have been the fate 
of the Army of the Cumberland. Had we halted at Chatta- 
nooga instead of marching out to Chickamauga, even though 
McCook had been with us, we might have had Vicksburg 
reversed. 

I do not believe there was a man who remained in the 
front fighting on the Sunday of Chickamauga who thought of 
defeat, so little do they who are in the line know of the actual 
state of affairs in active army life. 

We bivouacked around Rossville on Sunday night, and 
as we gathered in groops about our camp-fires that night, we 
talked of the scenes of the day or mourned the loss of the 
comrades who had fallen, and all discussed the probabilities 
of the morrow on another field, confident of ultimate success. 
The morning found our portion of the army moving back 
toward Chattanooga, our campanies and regiments intact, ex- 
cept for the actual losses of the battle field. Through the 
afternoon of that day we listened to the distant rumble and 
roar of the guns of the 14th Army Corps, sounding like the 
last mutterings of a great storm that had spent its strength, 
and was drawing to a close from shere exhaustion. As proof 
of the fact that Chickamauga was not a defeat, we have the 
fact that Gen. Geo. H. Thomas, one of the grandest heroes 



20 — 

and noblest men developed by the war, was able with a single 
corps to hold the entire army of Bragg at bay until our lines 
were established in and about Chattanooga. Nor was Bragg's 
army able to follow up the advantage gained at Chickamauga. 
He had been able only to check our further advance, but not 
to drive us back from Chattanooga. The bravery of our men 
at Chickamauga was fully equaled by their patience and 
endurance of the siege of Chattanooga — a siege for two long 
months that were full of all that goes to make the soldier's 
life something to be dreaded, except for a noble and holy 
cause. 



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